


White Dress

by silverfoxpunk



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Human, Romance, Sex, Vulcan, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxpunk/pseuds/silverfoxpunk
Summary: When the Captain comforts a temporarily emotional T'Pol, their relationship takes a new turn - but will the crew get behind the major break in protocol? A plan is formulated by the Bridge Crew to help calm the storm, but will Vulcan nerves threaten to jeopardise it all?





	White Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this. I'm sure there are a few factual discrepancies, but I hope it's taken in the spirit it was meant in. I love T'Pol and Archer's gentle affection for each other and wanted to put them in a romantic scenario.

He ran a hand over his face; cursing both the tiredness and sense of irritation that seemed to be his only constants during this mission. 

He knew what they would’ve said about him at the Academy: that he was only here at all because of his vanity, and that he’d bullied Star Fleet into letting him try this Sisyphean task because he always had to be saving the damn planet and letting everyone know about it.

Popular gossip had it that Star Fleet only gave him Enterprise in the first place because it made good column inches. Just like any other corporation, they had a weakness for the weight of good publicity. The development of a warp engine guaranteed only geek-level interest, but a son flying his father’s warp engine?—Now that was human interest. A story like that could run and run.

Nothing in this godforsaken corner of space made any sense; not to him and certainly not to his shattered crew who were functioning on nervous tension and synthesised caffeine. Of course now he’d had time to suss out the size, shape, and consistency of what he’d actually begged Command for, he realised he’d charged into the Expanse without enough of a plan. This was beginning to feel a helluva lot like a suicide mission.

For one, T’Pol had barely made it off the Vulcan ship today. He was certain he had bruised her arms when he gripped her. He’d needed to go and apologise just as sincerely as she would brush that apology away. 

Deep down he knew his real apology should be for getting her into this mess in the first place, but how would that sound?

I’m sorry I took you away from your commission.  
I’m sorry I made you choose between Vulcan and Earth.  
I’m sorry we can’t act on this thing between us— 

No, not that latter. That one festered in his heart and he was learning to bury it down good and deep…

He got up slowly, feeling the ache in his knees. Could they have aged more quickly than the rest of him? Anything was possible in this accursed place.

He pushed back his chair and left his quarters for the short, brisk walk to sick bay, but his journey to T’Pol’s bedside was interrupted by Dr Phlox. He was veered away from the patient’s ear shot.

“Could I have a word, Captain?”

“Of course. How’s she doing?”

“Some minor bruising, and her emotions continue to be heightened, but she’s responding well to treatment. Captain if I may offer an observation, when a Vulcan’s emotions are exposed like this, she needs more than treatment, more than rest. After what she has been through today, she needs someone to talk to. A friend.”

The Captain studied Phlox’s face carefully, and allowed him to continue.

“You know it struck me this week that as we get closer to achieving our goal, our ability to judge what really matters is taken away by the focus we must develop. But when that goal has passed, there is always another to take its place, then another, then another, and so on, until one day we realise all those little moments we have missed out on because we remained so focused on those goals. It is those moments, those opportunities, that we ignore that actually make life worth living, don’t you agree Captain?” 

Arched eyed Phlox carefully, and he received that famous thin lipped smile, which he returned - mind racing all the while. The doctor had previously been clear about his thoughts over his relationship with T’Pol. Now once again he appeared to be dropping hints.

“As for our patient, I am happy to discharge her to recuperate in her own quarters. Can I ask you to accompany her, Captain? She’s still rather shaken.’

Archer slung him some side-eye. If it sounded like matchmaking, and it smelled like matchmaking… 

“Of course,” he said, for what else could he say?

* * *

T’Pol was as shaken as the Doctor had suggested, and she did not need persuading to sit when she entered her quarters. Her utilitarian room was brightly lit and he wished he’d had the presence of mind to light some of her candles before he went to collect her from sick bay.

“You should rest,” he remarked, mostly to fill the growing silence. 

She concurred with a brief nod. Her face was not its usual stoic mask of professionalism, but a battleground for micro-expressions that showed her vulnerability. 

Like an uninvited guest at a wedding, he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“Can I get you anything? A little food maybe? Something to drink?”

“Doctor Phlox looked after my needs sufficiently.”

Okay, now she sounded more like herself. That was good, so why did he still feel so awkward?

“Well, if there’s nothing else, I should let you get some sleep. I don’t want to see you on the Bridge tomorrow until at least 1000 hours. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

He shuffled his feet. “Goodnight, T’Pol.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

He turned and his fingers were about to press the door release when she called him back.

“Captain?”

He turned to face her.

“Yes?”

“Would you… stay a moment longer?”

Her face looked up at him with large, fluid eyes. She appeared to be fighting herself a thousand times over.

“I would like… your company.” She seemed upset with herself for admitting that.

He thought for a moment of his duty roster, and the myriad of tasks he had not yet completed. The day shift would be waiting for him to receive their report so the night shift could take over.

“Of course,” he said.

“Please,” she gestured to the chair beside her bed, “sit.”

He took the seat gratefully, but then didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he gently clasped them between his open knees. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “but I am also a little…’” she had to think for a moment, but then realised should could not complete that sentence. She rephrased, “So many Vulcans died today.”

The Captain nodded. “Yes, yes they did.” 

“People I knew. People I worked with.”

“I know. I’m sorry, T’Pol. It was a terrible loss of life. Do you want to tell me about them?”

She shook her head no, but the tears that had been threatening to spill since he collected her swelled and now traced down her face. 

That was it for him. Before he had time to calculate the consequences, he reached out and brushed away a silvered thread with his thumb. She suddenly took his hand and cupped her face with it. Her warm, soft skin pulsed under his palm as her limpid eyes gazed at him.

“Stay with me,” she said softly.

He was a powerful man. He knew that. He had the ear of the most powerful agencies for change in their Solar System. He had the lives of 1,014 crewmen in his hands, along with the hopes and dreams of their families. He knew where the jealousy of others came from. But with those three words, she entirely stole his power.

Their lips connected.

Later when he tried desperately not to recall the moment (and all he could do was be tortured by it), he couldn’t remember whom had made the first move. What he did remember was that his hand had threaded behind her back, and he had pressed her whole body into him so that when he kissed her, she entirely belonged to him.

He remembered the feel of the threads of her velvet catsuit under his fingertips, and the shape of her body beneath them. He remembered the smell of roses and almonds shot through by the faint hint of antiseptic. 

He remembered the swell of her breasts pushed up against his chest and the feel of her hardening nipples.

He remembered the soft sigh she made as their tongues connected, explored, touched and relented. 

And he remembered the moment he entirely came to his senses and pulled away.

“No! You’re not yourself, this shouldn’t happen!” He’d said breathlessly. He actually had to shake his head to free himself of the fog of her.

“Jonathan…” the one word betrayed so much. She was begging him to stay, and he wanted it too. He wanted it so badly it burned him inside out.

“I have to go. You know I have to, T’Pol, and tomorrow, you’ll be glad that I did.” 

Somehow he’d willed his erection to fade. He'd made it to her door and stumbled through it. 

He’d hurried unaccosted back to his quarters to face the misery and loneliness that would be his bedmates there.

* * *

It was two days later when she came to his ready room. He hadn’t slept at all the night of his indiscretion, and then had slept too much the night after - and both had left him out of sorts. His Xindi problem continued unabated, and the anomalies left the crew literally queuing up for him so that even a latrine stop resulted with a question asked and answered through a bolted door. 

He was short tempered, irritable, and getting increasingly unreasonable. He was not the leader they needed him to be, and knew it had to change.

At the Academy they taught him that leadership was about the lives he’d have to sacrifice. They prepped, rehearsed, tried and tested him, but they never warned him the first life he’d have to sacrifice would be his own.

At home, he was the kind of strong, confident, and gentlemanly man that women became insensible over. He’d always had his pick, and his pick had fallen into a type. Invariably sweet but in some kind of hot water, these troubled, frail women had their problems and he would relish stepping in before he got bored and could politely slip away. 

T’Pol was not like those women. T’Pol looked him in the eye and told him he was wrong. T’Pol challenged his word, undermined his preconceptions, made him look at the world, and then deep into himself. She forced him to raise his bar.

T’Pol had an exceptional mind; always able to dig down, pull apart, and make lightening quick decisions, she could be both strategic and laser-focused. But to assume she was emotionless was his first and greatest mistake. She had many times surprised him with her capacity to show incredible compassion.

With T’Pol he had the freedom to unload and unwind, to share a discourse with the right to criticise or complain, or even share his joy. In T’Pol he had someone with whom he could let the pressure out of having all those other lives held tightly in his hands. In T’Pol was an equal: she met him toe to toe.

Oh to deny he didn’t see her beauty would be foolish. She was exquisite, of course she was. And of course he was curious too; he was not the first man whose thoughts took him to what gave a woman like her pleasure.

He popped an antacid, and rubbed his heart. Though he knew it wasn’t heartburn that plagued him. That kiss tormented his mind…

His door chimed and he bit down a tired sigh. Another petitioner at the gates.

“Enter,” he said gruffly.

He didn’t expect to see her there, dressed like an angel in radiant white.

His face must have registered his shock. 

“May I come in, Captain? Or do I inconvenience you?”

“No, no, come in. Please—” he said, though with some hint of anxiety in his voice. They had not been alone together since that night. 

The door slid shut behind her.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said reading his unspoken thoughts.

“What for?”

“For that night.”

He indicated she should come closer and sit. She chose to sit next to him and he noticed once again that smell like roses more strongly this time. No hypospray to dampen down the sweet fragrance. 

“You could have taken advantage, but you didn’t,” she remarked.

“You weren’t yourself, and I wasn’t myself either. I’m sorry I let things get as far as they did,” he added. “I hope we can put this behind us and carry on as professionals. And I’m sorry too for not taking the time to come and speak to you before now. You shouldn’t have had to come to me.”

He raised his chin, feeling on steadier ground now. This was good, this was getting it put behind them, and that he could deal with.

“Captain, I don’t think you understand.”

He frowned. 

“It wasn’t that I was not myself that night. It was that I was more myself than ever. What you saw, was the real me. I kissed you because that is what I wanted more than anything. What I wanted then, and what I still want.” 

She turned her eyes up to meet his, his heart was thundering. No pills to cure what he was suffering from now, and he knew it. 

“T’Pol, I… I don’t know what to say,” he finished honestly.

“Say that you want to take me in your arms again and finish what we started,” she said.

Oh god oh god oh god.

He stood up too quickly, and realised the blood had rushed from his head and pooled to where he was already doing his thinking. 

He walked to his door and noticed in his peripheral vision that her head lowered, perhaps thinking he would order her to leave. His hand pressed his door’s control, and the lock clicked into place.

* * *

He was deep inside her. She was slick from the previous movement of his lips and tongue. She had cum hard on his fingers, and now she pushed herself down on him, her double labia spreading like petals on him. 

Her slender hands were on his chest, fingers woven into the light scattering of chest hair she found there. He enveloped her hands knowing he was close now. As he began to convulse under her, his head tipped back into the void where his pillow had previously been before one or the other of them had knocked it to the ground.

She smiled as he came; let him squeeze her hands again - though he did it more gently this time. She leaned over and brought her lips to his and they kissed sweetly, resting foreheads against each other as she carefully released herself from him. He rescued his condom and whipped it straight in the trash. 

She lay beside him, one hand still in his. He looked across at her, missing the weight of her on his body. She smiled, and it completely undid him. 

“You always surprise me,” he told her, and leaned forward to kiss her again. He rolled to his side before swinging his tingling legs over the edge of his bed. 

“Is that a compliment, or a criticism?” she asked.

“Both.” He turned and grinned at her. “I need a shower.”

“Go.”

He grinned and jumped out of bed. Knees not feeling so old now, he mused. 

In the shower, he scrubbed vigorously and had just lathered up his armpits when the door slid open and she slipped in beside him. He pulled her lithe body into his arms and was back to full attention; hands exploring every sweet, wet, part of her; slipping and sliding together until literally no-one was clean.

* * *

He placed a bowl of fresh fruit in front of her and she thanked him. She was wrapped in a towel, her long legs crossed tidily at the knees and then again at the ankles. Her damp hair clung to her temples and her ear tips peeped through the wet strands.

“What are we going to do about this? About us?” he asked. 

Honestly, he was all out of being able to think about this logically. That was her terrain anyway.

She thought for a moment. 

“A crew as close as ours, on a mission as dangerous as this - I think you should be honest with them. This isn’t just some one night thing, is it?”

It was definitely a statement, not a question. 

He put his hand under her chin and looked in her eyes. 

“No it’s not,” he agreed. “I need you, here. In my bed, beside me at work, and having my back in a fight. I’ve never needed anyone before, and I only know that I don’t think I can do this if we’re lying to people.”

“Me neither,” she admitted. 

He nodded. “It may not go well.”

“Start with the bridge team. Get them behind you.”

He nodded again. “I’ll get it organised.”

* * *

His steward, while uncomplaining, had spent the third night with Porthos. His little companion would be missing him, and truth be known, he was missing him too.

It was now or never for the truth. 

He’d asked the bridge team and Doctor Phlox to join him in his ready room after supper, and now they were all assembled, trying to look comfortable with their glasses of wine, sucking down an air of anticipation.

He’d gone to another room to take a moment to prepare himself. Finally he made an entrance, and everyone waited in silent curiosity. There was not much room so some were seated, some standing. He felt surrounded and stifled.

“These are dangerous times-“ he started. They had not expected that. There was nodding in agreement. “I want you to know I see what you are going through. I am not blind to the stress this mission is causing, especially to my bridge team. You are all very important to me. I don’t want to let you down - not any of you.” 

This latter had come out with unexpected candour, and it was met with such. Hoshi had raised an eyebrow in Malcolm’s direction and he had pulled a face in response that was hard for the Captain to read. Trip, as always appeared to have his back. 

“You’ll see there’s someone missing from this room, and that’s because I wanted to share something with you that concerns her. You may have some thoughts about it that you may want to air with me and everyone else assembled here, and I didn’t think it was fair for T’Pol to answer questions meant for me.”

“What’s going on, Captain?” Trip questioned on behalf of them all. “Is T’Pol okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine.” The Captain shifted his feet, swallowed hard. “I know you know I have a great deal of respect for T’Pol as a colleague, both as a Science Officer and as a valuable member of this team… But of late, our connection has deepened and… well I have come to see her as more than a colleague.”

There was Hoshi’s raised eyebrow again. Travis blushed and shredded the label on his beer. Malcolm grinned almost as wide as the Doctor. Then the Captain caught Trip’s gaze, and found a less than friendly look coming straight back at him.

“We have tried to maintain a professional distance,” he continued. “This has not been possible, and I have drafted a communique to Star Fleet to inform them of our relationship which we will send - and deal with the consequences of - when we return to normal space. Here, right now in the Expanse, we don’t have the luxury of keeping secrets. We don’t want to. We want you to know that we have a bond between us, because we have a bond with you too, and we cannot let that break. To face this challenge, we need to work together as one. We can’t do that if we’re not honest with each other.” 

He looked up finally, to see what wreckage his news had done and found it wanting. “Permission to speak freely,” he added as everyone looked like they were scared to even breathe.

As always Phlox was the one to break the ice. “Well, I for one am delighted for you. I wish you every happiness.” 

“Me too Captain,” said Malcolm, and the others (with the exception of Trip) were quick to concur.

“Thank you. Does anyone have anything they want to ask? Speak up now, because this is your one and only opportunity. How about you Trip? Anything to say?”

Trip shook his head. “Oh I’ve got nothin’ to say about this,” he said dryly. 

Archer frowned. “You clearly do, so come on. Out with it.”

“Alright then, I think it’s wrong.” 

That got some even higher raised eyebrows in the room. Archer squared himself up.

“Morally or professionally?”

“Both. You know the rules. She’s your subordinate, Captain. What example does that set the crew? You start this, where’s it gonna stop? This is not the time or place. You’re looking down the barrel of anarchy.”

“If not now, then when? Are we supposed to just repress our feelings for each other forever?”

“Not forever, but until this mission is done. You know what this relationship says; it says you don’t believe we’re ever getting out of this. If someone like you breaks protocol, what message does that send to everyone else? This ain’t about happiness - God knows I wish you and T’Pol every happiness - it’s about your example, and a fine one you’re setting now. This is like starting a fire in zero G.” 

“Steady on, Trip-“ Malcolm advised.

“Captain, if I’m honest, I think Trip makes a valid point,” Hoshi interceded carefully. “It’s just not like you to throw caution to the wind. It does seem well, a little out of character for you both. I suppose other people may see it as reckless. And let’s not forget there are people on this crew who will have been reprimanded for doing, or even considering doing, the exact same thing with their subordinates.”

Archer found the one folding chair the team had missed under his desk. He pulled it out, spun it round and sat on it, crossing his arms over the rounded metal back. As soon as he sat the tension eased in the room. Trip had opened the floodgates and that was a good thing.

“If we have a situation we don’t like, we can’t always undo that situation,” he said. “Sometimes we just have to make a plan for the best worst case. If this was such a situation, how would we make a contingency for dealing with it best?”

Hoshi asked, “You mean dealing with the fallout of having people know about you and T’Pol?”

He nodded. 

“I guess, well, it wouldn’t hurt for your relationship to seem like something solid, something real,” she said.

“Something that felt official and proper, not like you’ve both thrown caution to the wind,” Malcolm suggested. 

“Something like a wedding—” Travis finished nervously. He caught the Captain’s eye then looked back at his drink. “Something like that, anyway.”

Everyone grew quiet again. Archer nodded and stood up, swung his chair out from between his legs before folding it carefully and sliding it back.

“Any more questions or comments?” he asked. There were none. “Well okay then. Please enjoy yourselves and leave in your own time. But I should go and discuss this with T’Pol.” He was about to go when he remembered something else. “I suppose it goes without saying that for the time being, this information doesn’t leave this room?”

The silence and nods told him all he needed to know.

* * *

“That is entirely illogical,” was her immediate reaction when he told her.

“Is it though? I think Trip has a valid point.”

She thought about that for a moment. “What do they mean by ‘make it more official’?”

“T’Pol, they think we should get married.”

She looked quite shocked for a moment, before getting the features of her face back under Vulcan control. 

“I fail to see how a contractual obligation would allay the crew’s fears,” she argued reasonably.

“Because there is something about weddings that legitimises. They carry the weight of legality and tradition hand in hand. I’m not saying we should do it, but it does actually make some kind of sense to me.” He saw her concerned face in the partial light, and he smiled to ease her concerns. “Come and lie down with me. Let me hold you in the dark because when you’re close to me, everything makes sense.”

She disrobed in-front of him, shucking off her outfit like a second skin. He knew he would never tire of drinking her in. He ran his hand over the curve of her breast, then slipped his hand down over her buttocks and drew her to him.

Perhaps Trip was right. Maybe the passion he had for this Vulcan was some kind of anarchy. 

* * *

“I don’t think I can do it,” T’Pol said interrupting his dictation. 

“Scrub that last sentence,” he instructed into his computer, then turned the programme off.

“Do what?”

“On reflection I see that a wedding, any major celebration in fact, could have positive consequences for the crew. I also see that it could give a union - our union - legitimacy,” she said. 

He smiled at her, “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” she said, in order to satisfy him, “I’m sorry but I don’t want to marry. I have never wanted marriage, even when I was promised to someone. And besides, I don’t see why I should be held hostage to the problems of the crew.”

He took her hands and drew her closer.

“That makes sense and I understand that, I really do. Of course it’s just one solution to the problem, and another is we just don’t tell anyone. I trust the bridge crew not to say anything. They’ll keep our secret for us.”

“But they can’t. Life doesn’t work like that; not really. One day someone will see something between us, a look, a touch - and the word will spread quickly. No, hiding the truth simply won’t work.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know, I need more time,” she said honestly. 

He frowned at her, “That’s something I can’t guarantee for any of us.”

“You have burdens. I wish I could ease them.”

He pulled her to him. “Don’t you realise how much you already do?”

* * *

Work was difficult, tensions remained high and the mission threw every problem at him that he had ever trained for. Hitting his bed at night was a mercy.

His eyes had barely closed when he felt her body slide in bed next to him. He reached out for her cool skin and without opening his eyes, traced his hand over her cheek, down across her shoulder, around her waist, until he let it rest in the small of her back. His fingers traced lazy circles there.

“We have an expression on Earth. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. 

“Even with your eyes closed?”

“Even then.”

She nestled into him. “Jonathan, I’ve been thinking. I believe we must wed. I was shocked by the suggestion at first, but I see now we must all sacrifice something for this mission.”

“No. We’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way.”

He kissed her forehead and let the silence swell for a moment before saying, “T’Pol, if this was Earth and I had met you there, maybe things might have been different - but perhaps not so much so. Perhaps we would have had time to grow fond of each other and build this same connection we have. Eventually, one day I would have asked you to marry me because that’s the kind of man I am, and that’s the kind of world I live in. I would’ve taken you to the Rocky mountains, or somewhere equally beautiful, and I would have found you a ring and gotten down on one knee, and said ’T’Pol, you are my north star forever guiding me, I love you, and I hope you will do me the honour of walking with me through this life. Will you marry me?’”

He waited for her usual dry sarcasm, but instead she surprised him with an observation. 

“You are a romantic.”

“Yes,” he confessed. “Old fashioned too I suppose. When Travis made that suggestion, it shocked me. I thought to myself, but we have is new and we’d barely be dating in normal times. But then I got to thinking about our ‘new’ relationship, and I thought actually that was far from the truth. You and I have been side by side for the longest time now. We’re already family. Often I know what you will say before you say it, or at least I know that you will say something and that something will usually challenge me to do better. I don’t know what Captain I would be without that. I don’t know what man I would be without that.” 

She nuzzled into his chest and he wondered if she listened to his heartbeat. He traced a finger over the arch of her ear.

“You’re so important to me,” he continued. “You’ve become the reason I get up in the morning.”

She called him on that, “You exaggerate.”

“No, I don’t. My job is often lonely and exhausting and this mission is both of those things. Seeing you every day and knowing you have my back - I couldn’t do it without you. T’Pol I look for your guiding hand even when it’s not there. You’ve become more than a friend, more than a partner.”

Her stomach rumbled with almost comedy bad timing, and she apologised. 

“Oh here’s me prattling on, and you have just come off shift, you must be starving. I’ll get chef to make you something.” He moved to get out of bed, but her hand caught his hip and he stayed.

“No, food can wait. Please,” she said, “carry on with what you were saying.”

He settled back down, pulled her back into his arms after laying kisses on her. 

“I’ve always liked a certain type of woman, but you are not that woman. You know your own mind, you’re stubborn and frankly pretty wilful. In fact, you’re mostly a massive pain in my ass-“

“With such high credentials, it’s a wonder you could ever cope without me.”

“-But, you make me feel so much more deeply. My god, you push me, and I am forever changed by knowing you. I guess what I’m trying to say is that when I look at you, I can’t imagine a world without you in it. T’Pol, I’d do anything for you. Just ask it of me because I am yours. Do you know that?”

She buried her head in the nook of his arm and he held her tightly. 

She whispered into his chest. “Your North star?”

“And the sun and the moon, and all of Vulcan’s too.”

She rolled on top of him and he brushed her hair back around her ears. Their kiss was long and deep, just like the way he made love to her.

* * *

In T’Pol’s quarters, Doctor Phlox felt the need to take her hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“My dear, it is okay to be nervous, but if you’re having second thoughts…”

“It’s just the humans have so many traditions, and on Vulcan weddings are conducted in private after much meditation. I feel so exposed.”

“I would offer you a sedative, but I think we can both agree that that would be a pity—” he teased. 

“I couldn’t find a white dress. Who would own such an article of clothing on a star ship? Will this one do? Hoshi told me I need something borrowed and something blue, but I don’t even know why. It’s just ‘the done thing’ in his culture apparently.” She looked at her hands. “My palms are perspiring.”

Phlox resisted the temptation to smile, instead he put his hand on her shoulder and let their eyes meet. 

“Firstly, your attire is very becoming. You are quite the blushing bride, so as to speak. Second of all, don’t worry about the pageantry around human weddings. The main thing to remember is that this is your’s and the Captain’s day, so find a moment to be together and just enjoy being with him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I fail to see where enjoyment comes in any of this.” 

“It will, trust me. I am a man who has experienced three such ceremonies, remember?”

She nodded a concession. In terms of experience, she was indeed talking to the right person. 

“Oh, before I forget,” he said, pulling a small, oblong box from his robe, “the Captain asked me to give you this. He said it belonged to his mother and he wanted you to have it today.”

“What is it?” she demanded.

“I have no idea. Why don’t you open it and find out?”

She frowned, and gently - with more than a little suspicion - opened the box. Inside was a slender platinum necklace with a delicate blue pendant sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

On seeing it, Phlox smiled. “Ah,” he said, “something borrowed and something blue. It seems our dear Captain thinks of everything.” His smile broadened, then on seeing her face he became more serious. “He loves you you know.”

She looked up at that. 

“Oh he may not of told you yet, but he will.” Phlox took the box from her and wrestled the necklace from its home and placed it on her décolletage. With deft hands he fixed the catch. Her hand went to it, and she let her fingers trace the bright sapphire. She caught her reflection and knew the colour flattered her eyes. 

“I suppose I am as ready as I will ever be,” she said a little ruefully.

“Good, as I believe we are already as late as is commonly acceptable,” he chuckled. “May the universe bless and protect you both, my dear. This is a happy day!” he reminded her.

“Thank you, Doctor. I just wish my hands would stop shaking.”

“Then I suggest you take my arm and lean on me.” 

She did so, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. 

“Let’s go,” he smiled.

* * *

Approaching the mess hall she could hear the babbled voices of a large crowd. Suddenly Trip hissed, “She’s here!” and somebody played an arrangement by a Vulcan choir. She didn’t expect that, and hesitated at the door. Phlox misread her hesitation.

“Are you okay, my dear?”

“Yes. Please let’s get this over with.”

As they stepped forwards through the door Malcolm and Travis welcomed them from each side. As they stood back and the assembled crew caught their first sight of her, there was an audible gasp. At the end of the aisle stood side by side were the Captain and Trip, both handsome in their dress uniforms with hats tucked under their arms. When the Captain saw T’Pol, his face was overcome with emotion. 

Phlox supported her all the way to the front of the room, and at the end whispered to her, “You’re in safe hands now.” 

The Captain, smiling, leaned in to her and said, “You’re a vision.”

She blushed. Her emotional slip made him grin like a fool and she knew it pleased him.

The room fell naturally into a hushed silence, and he turned to face the assembled crowd. Trip stepped forwards to take his hat.

“Welcome everyone,” Archer began. “I guess it’s not every day a Captain gets to officiate his own wedding!” 

Laughter. When the room settled again, he took T’Pol’s left hand and squeezed it in both his own.

“Well you all know that we broke a few rules to get here. But I think you’ll agree, my beautiful bride is worth a Court Marshall or six.” 

Someone shouted, “Hear, hear!”. More laughter, which took a while longer to settle down.

“T’Pol, I thought the day when you agreed to marry me, was the happiest of my life - but now I realise that every day my happiness with you will just keep on growing. As the Captain of a star ship, and you as a Science Officer, I think we both understand a bit about the meaning of infinity. And that is what my respect and love for you will always be: as infinite as space, as wondrous as the stars.”

There were some ‘awws’ at this. Hoshi, grinning, wiped away a tear. Malcolm gave her a hug.

“So first, I must ask my best man if he has already lost our rings.”

Laughter again.

“No, siree. Right here, Captain.” Trip said, passing over two rings borrowed from crew members as stand-ins until the time came when they could find their own. 

“Thank you, Commander.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” 

He took a small step back out of the limelight. 

The Captain slid the simple gold band half way down T’Pol’s shaking ring finger. He met her eyes with a more than a little concern.

“T’Pol, do you take me, Jonathan Gerald Archer, to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish me, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live?”

T’Pol whet her lips, she was quiet for a moment, and he whispered to her “Are you alright?” She nodded. 

“I will.” She said it again, louder this time. “I will.” 

Smiles all round.

“Well thank goodness,” the Captain joked, “I wasn’t sure how that was going to go for a moment.”

More laughter from the crowd. They were loving this, but it didn’t make T’Pol feel any less nervous. She fixed her gaze on her Captain as it comforted her.

“I, Jonathan Gerald Archer, take you, T’Pol, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love and cherish you, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live. And from what I hear about Vulcans, that sure is a long time!”

A huge laugh that time, but his smile slipped away, and he was no longer playing to the crowd when he looked at her and said quietly, “My north star.”

“Well, it only remains for me to say that of course I am very happy to pronounce us husband and wife. And at long last, I get to kiss my beautiful bride.”

He swept her off her feet and into a long embrace and the crowd, already pretty hyper, went absolutely crazy with clapping and cheering. Somebody had found rice in the supply store, and as soon as she was righted her back on her feet, she found herself in a shower of the stuff. He was laughing, and catching it and tossing it back at people, and everyone was gathering around them slapping them on the back, kissing their cheeks, and shoving cigars in his pockets while enthusiastically shaking both their hands. He kept looking to her, but they were being separated by the crowd. 

* * *

Morning slipped into evening, and back into morning, and the party raged on with no sign of abating.

T’Pol sat to rest her feet awhile, when she found Doctor Phlox at her side. He pulled up a chair next to her.

“Congratulations my dear, you did splendidly. But remember what I said. Do try and find some time for yourselves, I think you’ll find it’s important.”

The party felt like an explosion of emotion from a ship’s crew that badly needed to celebrate and release the overall tension of a mission that could see them die at any moment. They had a reason now to laugh, cry, and hug each other all at the same time, and make promises to each other that they would have forgotten by morning. 

T’Pol remained a little apart from it all when Trip came to join her. 

“More champagne?” He asked, tipping the bottle he had over her glass. “Chef kept a few bottles of the real stuff to celebrate the end of our mission, but he said this was more important.”

She shook her head no. He shrugged and refilled his own glass. 

“You look…” he raised an eyebrow. “Well let’s just say the Captain’s a lucky guy.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay? You seem a little quiet.”

“Do you think we achieved what we set out to achieve, Trip?” she whispered, though anyone who was likely to hear was already too drunk to care.

“Look at them,” he said gesturing the room. “Hell yeah! They’ll protect you two to the end of the known universe.”

“Both of us?”

“Of course! You think they don’t love you? You’re the most beautiful bride they’ve ever seen. Sure, you are kinda intimidating at first, but now they’ve gotten to know you. T’Pol, I wish you could see how we all see you. You’re kind of amazing. And he—“ he nodded in the Captain’s direction, who was dancing some kind of hokey-pokey with Hoshi until they fell out of step and both fell into peels of laughter. “—only has eyes for you. He really is a changed man, T’Pol. That’s not the product of some ‘plan’, that’s real. It’s always been you, and it always will be.” He leaned forwards and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “He’s a lucky son-of-a-gun, as my people would say.” He popped his hat on his head and tipped it in her direction, before popping it back at a rackish angle. “May I have this dance, Mrs Archer?”

“I will retain my name,” she responded. 

He merely laughed and took her hand and lifted her up to her feet.

“T’Pol, may I have this dance?”

She sighed. “I suppose so, though I’m not very good.”

“Well that’s just fine, as I am an expert,” he grinned. 

After a moment or two on the dance-floor, her partner was tapped on the shoulder by her Captain and husband.

“May I cut in?” Archer said gallantly, his voice a little unsteady.

“Be my guest.” Trip replied, then added with narrowed eyes, “Watch your feet.” 

The Captain laughed.

“I didn’t once stand on his feet!” she protested.

The Captain pulled her close and held her tight. “That’s what you say.”

After a few minutes being so close to him, she almost forgot the tension of the room full of drunken crew mates. She felt herself relaxing into his arms.

“So how long before I get to take you out of here and ravish you?” he whispered huskily.

“Well, I don’t know about the ravishing, but I believe we have completed the checklist of all the traditions. The ceremony; the speeches; the cutting of the cake; the first dance. I believe we have fulfilled our duties and obligations. Most of the crew seem insensible with drink, I doubt they will even notice us slip away. —Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Maybe one day I’ll get you to understand,” he laughed shaking his head, then he held her close again. After a while he kissed her cheek, “You smell so good. Plus I think I need to apologise for all the things that dress is making me want do to you.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Was it a suitable choice then?”

“No, it was a very, very, bad choice—” he said lasciviously, with a lingering look at her cleavage then back up to her eyes. “We need to leave here, now.” 

He took her by the hand, and began to drag her through the crowd. She stumbled after. Hoshi spotted them leaving and yelled out to the crowd “Hey, they’re leaving!” and once again they were cheered and remains of rice and streamers filled the air.

* * *

Back at his quarters, his door was blocked by an explosion of black and yellow quarantine tape, and signs saying “Keep Out!” and “Disaster Zone!”.

She was confused when he simply laughed and ripped them all down.

“Another time,” he told her, then surprised her by sweeping her up into his arms and through the door into his quarters with a floor scattered with Denobulan rose petals.

* * *

As soon as they were inside, he put her down on his bed before kissing the breath out of her. He was as hard as a rock and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to ease him back.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” 

“That’s because I’ve never seen you like this—” he said, gesturing her outfit. “My god woman, I barely made it through that ceremony.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

He ground up against her again, his protrudence rather more than obvious as it was pushing hard into her thigh. 

“I like it,” he said, lips nuzzling her neck. 

“Yes, I get that impression.”

He stopped and fell backwards to next to her, and was pleased when she took his hand and threaded her fingers into his. “Maybe I’m a little ‘inebriated’ myself.”

“Maybe,” she concurred. “You’re certainly different today.”

“Good different?”

“I think on reflection that everything about today has been good different.”

“T’Pol, do you understand how I feel about you? Maybe this wedding started out as an idea to win the crew over, but very soon I realised I wanted us to do this today because I love you and I wanted to tell the world. You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted you to hear it. I’ve loved you for a long time, it just took me a little moment to work that out.”

She thought about that. “I believe it is the same for me too.” 

He squeezed her hand and gazed at the soft down of hair on her cheek trying to bring it firmly into focus, but either she was too close or he was too far gone.

‘You’re not just saying that to keep an old, slightly tipsy, Captain happy are you?”

“And what would I hope to gain from that?” she said.

“Then come here and kiss me,” he encouraged, “and let’s begin our lives together.”

* * *


End file.
